Honeymoon
by Qu-ko
Summary: "Okay. Convince me we should honeymoon together. You get five minutes. Go." [Long, plotless, and pointless Hugh/Rosa smut, with a healthy side of cheese and sugar; revised 1/29]


**A/N:** I wrote ~8,500 word Hugh/Rosa fluffy smut in less than two days. I don't even know where it came from, or more importantly, why. (Does smut ever need a why, though?)

This, along with a ~9,000 word fic finished for a different fandom the day I started this one.

Needless to say, I have completely lost control of my life. This is so not up for debate.

This is cheesy and takes pride in its own cheesiness, because Hugh and Rosa have enough sugar-cheese in combination to cause actual real-life cavities and stomachaches. (It couldn't be the Cheez-Its I was eating, no way.)

* * *

Their stay had been fully paid for; with a flash of a credit card that had certainly been lent to her by her PokeStar Studios manager or Elesa or probably anyone who wasn't Clay, Rosa was handed two keys by the hotel receptionist. Neither of them had any large bags to carry up, so they simply took the elevator to the thirtieth floor.

The room was a suite, the best of the best, and Hugh had to remind himself not to be surprised at the kinds of connections Rosa must have had to acquire such a room. Not that it mattered what kind of room she got, anyway - her eagerness to have him participate in the tournament with her this time, and then to share her hotel room with her when he'd tried to use the no-money too-lazy excuse, automatically overrode any opinions he might have had about it.

Partially because she pulled that little sister act. _Especially_ because she pulled that little sister act.

The design of the suite was very different from what few paid hotels Hugh had ever stayed in in his life. Four rooms in an open layout, built around the kitchen and living area, plus a modest but exceedingly private bathroom (they'd obviously been anticipating rich couples in this room). The two of them only had a brief chance to glimpse around the room before a few of the housekeeping staff chased them out, claiming they hadn't finished cleaning the room yet.

"A room that big, it's no wonder they're not done yet," Hugh grumbled.

"Okay, let's go get some snacks and stuff, then!" Rosa grinned, cheerful as ever.

"What?"

"You know, like a sleepover? We haven't had one of those in a long time. I kinda miss it," she said dreamily.

Never mind that Hugh knew for a fact neither his parents nor Rosa's mother would stop at just suspicious looks if they ever found out about two adolescent, opposite-sex best friends suddenly having sleepovers again. Rosa's mother in particular read far too many trashy romance novels for her own good.

They eventually returned to the room with as many bags of junk food and bottles of soda as they could carry, now free of maids to kick them out.

"Good, now we're all set! Tonight's gonna be awesome!" Rosa said, trying to get the door closed and discovering her hands were too full.

Hugh kicked it shut instead. "You gonna be okay with only one responsible adult around, Rosie?"

Rosa let the goodies in her arms fall into a messy heap on top of the fancy duvet. "Hey, don't call me that!" she griped.

"Why not, Rosie?" he persisted. From the grin on his face, he was only teasing, but she gave him a withering look.

"'Cause it's childish." She located a stack of plastic cups from the bathroom as Hugh added his pile to the mess on the bed, plopping down ungracefully beside the whole thing, exhaling with the effort.

"Yeah, I guess it is."

Rosa poured a cup full of the first soda she could get her hands on and held it out to Hugh, who took it and stared blankly into its contents. Curiously, she sipped at a cup of it herself, and found that sure enough, it was peachy and sickly-sweet. She eyed him again, holding the silence a moment longer before voicing her thoughts.

"You okay? You've been kinda quiet since we got here. You better not go into the tournament all mopey, Hugh!"

"Just thinking, I guess..." Realizing he'd been gazing too vacantly into his drink, he drained half the cup in one gulp and set it on the nightstand, collapsing in a heap on the tower of too-fluffy pillows at the head of the mattress.

"Ah," Rosa pronounced, feeling slightly foolish as she took a seat on the bed covers, opposite her best friend across the mound of junk. "Sorry about that... I just think if there's any time for us to grow up, it's probably now. I'm sixteen, you're seventeen, and we both played a part in saving the world not too long ago and everything."

Hugh gave her a startled glance, so genuine she couldn't quite tell if he was joking or really taken aback by the sentiment. "Who are you and what have you done with Rosa?"

"Ha ha, very funny. I can be serious too, you know!"

"I don't think I've ever seen you be serious more than four times in my life."

"Sure you have," she said petulantly. "What about when we graduated elementary school and I was at the top of the class? That was really important to me, I took it very seriously!"

"You gave a speech about baking _cakes, _Rosa_._ With props."

Rosa paused, expression falling slightly. "Oh... that's right, I did. I think I've even still got the apron."

"But my point was that you're always an airhead like that. So when you start getting serious about anything, of course I'm going to check to make sure you're not a pod person or something." Hugh went back over his words in his head and frowned. It hadn't come out as humorously as he'd meant it to, and Rosa certainly wasn't laughing.

"But I don't want to be stuck as a little girl forever in everyone's eyes. Yours, either. Don't you want that, too? Not to be a helpless little boy forever?"

She managed to hit the nail on the head with the terrifying accuracy only a best friend could. "I do, but—" He stopped. The intervening pause was enough time for Hugh to find a suitable distraction, long enough for the previous train of thought to be safely lost. "Hey, why in the world do you still have that apron? Does it even fit you anymore?"

"I don't know, but even so, I never throw anything away," Rosa replied, smiling again. "Who knows when it might come in handy?"

"...An _apron_."

"Sure! What if the Village Bridge Restaurant invites me in as a guest waitress, but they're short on aprons? Trainer Rosa to the rescue!"

"That thing fit you when you were nine years old. You probably couldn't even get it on now. No way it'd fit around your—"

He bit the last word off hastily before he made a potentially horrifying mistake.

"Well, who cares, anyway? I can be as foolish as I want to by myself, you know. Nobody has to live inside my head or anything."

"I'm not sure 'Trainer Rosa to the rescue' works as well when it's you yelling it aloud."

"So I'll mime it then!" she amended. Hugh rolled his eyes, finishing his cup of soda and reaching for a bag of chips for moral support.

"How do you propose to mime that?" he asked, and knew he would probably come to regret it. To his immense relief, however, Rosa did not immediately leap up to demonstrate.

"I could come sweep you off your feet and carry you to safety," she suggested helpfully, refilling her own cup and grinning.

"No way!" Hugh snapped, and then added before she could speak again, "You don't need to do that to anyone at a not _one word_ about a honeymoon, either! If you're gonna give up on Rosie, you better give up on that stupid joke too." He lowered his voice and griped, "I can't believe my sister would _say_ something like that..."

Rosa pouted. "But why? What if I don't want to give up on honeymooning with you?"

"Hey, which one of us was it that was talking about growing up?"

"But that is grown up," Rosa said softly. "I mean, I think I..."

"You think what?" demanded Hugh, annoyed. "Think you're going to go on yelling it across Unova for the next few years?" He winced at his own tone of voice. That was a little louder than he'd intended to be. "It's _embarrassing_, jeez. You're going in reverse order, anyway!"

A wicked gleam suddenly sparked in Rosa's eyes. She put her cup down far out of range and launched herself across the enormous bed, over the mound of potato chip bags and cookie boxes to tackle Hugh. He went down, flat on his back on the mattress, Rosa grinning like crazy on top of him, and he flushed while time ticked by around them.

"You," she pronounced at last, "are _such_ a closet romantic."

"I am _not_! You little brat!"

After a small tussle, the two of them ended on the floor, and then lunged simultaneously for the nearby couch and the cache of pillows thereon, scrambling all over each other to get first dibs. Hugh was taller and had a longer reach, but Rosa was faster, getting in the first whack of the pillow fight — squarely to Hugh's right shoulder. He countered with a couch cushion to the head, and the two of them continued pelting each other with overstuffed shams, folded blankets, and throw pillows until they were out of useful ammunition. They eventually collapsed, panting, to the floor.

"My masculinity _demanded _I punish you for that statement," Hugh wheezed.

"Well, we wouldn't be in this situation if you weren't trying to tell me the things I want are immature all the time," panted Rosa in return, reaching for her drink, miraculously unspilled in the chaos. She drained it, poured another, and drained that one as well.

"Huh?" said Hugh, intelligently, after a long pause.

"I won't shout it out in public or anything, but stop telling me it's stupid." Rosa had reverted to sulking again, slumped against the panels of a windowside banquette that jutted out into the room. "I can be as much of an idiot as I want in private, and I enjoy it, too! I mean, I was sort of hoping that since we're best friends, I could let the idiocy out in front of you, too... but I guess I can't have everything."

Hugh stared. Attempting to add two and two was only getting him three and change. He poured another cup of soda in an attempt to make the change vanish.

"Oh, Hugh," Rosa sighed, "you need a _girlfriend,_ seriously."

He choked. Cherry soda dribbled down his chin as Hugh attempted to regain his breath and the shreds of his dignity.

"Oh, what about that one girl we've been doing all that fun stuff in the Nimbasa amusement park with? You know, Yancy? Isn't she really cute?"

"I guess," he said, averting his gaze. "I wouldn't mind talking to her more, but— why is this even coming up, anyway? What difference does it make?!"

"Don't you like girls?"

Hugh added two and two together again, and not only did the change stubbornly refuse to disappear, but the three was looming larger this time. Rosa reached back and hauled herself up onto the arm of the disassembled couch, slim legs sprawling down its length, then put a hand down again to pluck her cup from the floor.

"Then you must like boys! What about Nate?"

"I— _no!"_ Hugh sputtered. "How could that even— Nate is— isn't he constantly flirting with _you_, anyway?! He's— He's not even curvy!"

Rosa gazed straight at him, owl-eyed and serious for a long moment, then burst into howls of laughter, curling up on the upholstered cushion in spasms. "Oh my god," she said, brushing tears from her face, "for a second there, I was tempted to tell you he definitely swings both ways, just to see you turn more of that cute color."

Hugh felt his face heat up, certain it was uniquely red by now. "Rosa—"

"Oh, good, you're turning it anyway."

"J-Jeez! Knock it off!" he muttered. "I was just trying to... just... oh, never mind!" He gave up in the face of her hysterical giggling, filled his cup to the top again and drank most of it, forcing the blush away.

"Sorry, sorry... but the look on your face..." Rosa shook her head. "Anyway, men have curves, too, you know. Nate's kind of got a tree climber build, you know? Just, ah, stuff like the arch where his chest meets his arms, or the slope of his shoulders, or even that cute little line down the side of his neck when he's battling really hard... Oh, Hugh, you're turning that color again."

Hugh didn't bother correcting her again. To hell with it, anyway. "You _obviously_ like guys. Have you ever even kissed one? Anybody at all?"

"Once," said Rosa, getting her breath back after the second laughing fit, "excluding for acting purposes. But a lady doesn't kiss and tell."

Hugh gave her a flat glare.

"...except to her best friends." Rosa grinned at him, flashing brilliant teeth. He preferred to think this was her expression of some stupid joke and a courtesy to him, and not a survival reaction triggered by his having picked up a throw pillow moments before, aiming it at Rosa's hair buns.

"When was this?"

"Last month."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Who was it?"

"You remember Curtis? Blonde, green eyes, kinda timid?"

Hugh nodded. "So what happened?"

"He asked me on the Ferris wheel, so I went to meet with him and kept him company for a while."

"And you kissed him?"

"Um... he kissed me, actually," Rosa corrected. "When we got off and he was about to go home. It wasn't bad," she added with a small smile, peering into her cup, and then glancing at Hugh.

"Huh? Oh." Hugh took the hint and handed over the bottle of soda. Rosa frowned at him.

"So, Hugh, you really made it all the way until now without ever...?"

"Not like anyone's ever taught me how."

Rosa's face suddenly changed completely, split by a wide, wicked grin. "You know, I do a lot of stage kisses on-screen nowadays... Maybe it doesn't count since it's acting, but there's gotta be some truth to the whole thing—"

"_Pass,_" Hugh spat, then caught himself when she puffed her cheeks at him. "I mean... It'd be kinda weird, that's all. There's no way teaching each other how to _kiss_ is normal for best friends..."

Rosa pondered this, munching on a handful of chips. "You know, Hugh, if that's weird to you, maybe normal isn't just something set in stone like that."

Hugh opened his mouth, closed it again, regrouped his thoughts and opened it a second time. "You're being weird again."

"Not really. Don't I call you on the xtransceiver and then shout your name in my most adorable voice at the top of my lungs when we're not together?"

"Yes, you do. I wish you wouldn't."

"And don't I do it without fail every day we're apart?"

"Like I said, I wish you didn't."

"So, if I didn't call you one day, or shouted something different, like 'Sweetie!' – that would be different, right?"

"Yeah, sure," Hugh repeated, cringing at the idea of being called "Sweetie."

"So, isn't that just normal for us?"

He eyeballed her, grave misgivings about the conversation hovering in the back of his mind. "What?"

"Normal is that thing you do every day, duh! That routine you follow. Don't we have a routine, Hugh?" Rosa asked with a pseudo-sugary tone.

"I— I guess. But that's not _normal,_" Hugh protested. "Normal also means things that other people do daily. Other people do not have famous trainers buzzing them every day to shout endearments loud enough for everyone around to hear!"

Rosa clamped her lips shut. "Well, maybe they should start."

Tiredly, Hugh heaved himself over a few feet to slump against the window seat Rosa occupied, letting his head thunk against the wood. He barely felt it. His brain was on the verge of shutting down, too frazzled to figure out what she wanted and too foggy to think long enough to ask about it. No response — or even meaning — for that last statement sprang easily to mind, and he was almost ready to proclaim _the hell with everything _and pass out on the floor.

"Rosa," he said, "if you mean something by that, explain it, because I think you're talking about girl things here. You're always the one telling me I'm a dumb boy, so I'm not going to get it. If not, let's find something better to talk about."

Rosa stayed quiet for a moment.

"There are a lot of normal people in this world. They go to school, go to work, go out with friends, and they never, ever do anything out of the ordinary. They don't change anything. But you do. You _did, _Hugh_._ By becoming a pokemon trainer, by going out to find your sister's purrloin, by fighting Team Plasma to do it." She poured her umpteenth drink, swallowing the last of the punch in one tense motion. "You can't be normal again, Hugh. You've already done too much. You've changed the world! Or at least," she added, "you changed _my_ world," and crushed her cup in her fist with a final, echoic, hollow noise. Rosa then tucked her hands neatly back into her lap and resumed staring silently out the window.

_What the hell?_

Hugh stared, dumbfounded, at Rosa's destroyed cup. There was something important in that monologue, he just... had to figure out what it_ was_, before she went and did something stupid like brush it aside.

Changing the world was an awfully funny thing for Rosa, one of Unova's beloved national heroes, to be talking about. Under normal circumstances, absolutely nothing could dislodge the sweet grin from her face, whether she was tending to her pokemon or taking on the unhinged leader of Team Plasma. Changing Rosa's world would have taken a hell of a lot of effort that Hugh didn't recall putting forth, unless he was counting all the energy he'd spent every time he tried to stomp it down when she called him on getting mushy and sentimental.

He poured himself another cup of courage. Then another. (Rosa seemed to find the view fascinating at this point.) He poured a third. Then he finally set the empty jug of juice down on the carpet and reseated himself on the very corner of the window bench, next to her feet.

"Okay," Hugh said. "Convince me we should honeymoon together." Rosa turned to look at him as if he'd grown a second head. "You get five minutes," he added. "Go."

She looked positively stricken. "H-How?!"

"Any way you want."

"You'll have to put your cup down, then."

Hugh practically choked. "N— Talk first, Rosa."

"You're never any fun," she muttered, then said, "Well, let's see. I'm cute, I'm popular, I'm housebroken, and I don't shed..." He groaned, and Rosa shot him a lopsided grin. "Oh! I'm a movie star, too. And I'm witty, and friendly, and fun to be around!" She took a moment to breathe, facetiously pretending to be thinking hard. "But really, all of that aside, I think the most important reason is that I'm in love with you, and I want to make you happy."

Rosa aimed a gorgeous grin at Hugh, who had been trying very hard to drink, but was having a remarkable amount of trouble getting himself to swallow after that last statement.

"I won't do anything you _tell _me to, but I'll do anything _for_ you... Hugh? Are you still breathing?"

"No," Hugh croaked, fighting his drink every inch of the way. He coughed a couple times, and then resolved firmly not to try and ingest anything next time he gave Rosa permission to do something like this ever again. "I'm fine, I'm fine—" he protested when she dove to start pounding him on the back. He inhaled to prove it, then coughed one more time. "I can breathe, I'm _fine._"

"Good, you better be. I'd be upset if you died on me after all that!"

He fell back against the window to stop the room from spinning. Rosa settled back beside him.

"So?"

"So what?" Hugh asked.

"Did I convince you?"

An awkward silence passed.

"You're so unfair," he growled lowly. "How am I supposed to tell you no to _that_?"

The room was hollow, still, silent... And then Rosa turned to look at him, and Hugh could hear her breathing.

He found himself having to retract a little when she started leaning closer, gripping the edge of the window seat with taut-knuckled hands and forcing a calm he definitely didn't feel. Rosa exhaled, like wind over water, and Hugh felt the air move around his neck with it. She laid a hand, tentatively, onto his cheek, and he had to fight the urge to lean into it.

"If you want to say something, then say it already."

Rosa knew how to push his buttons just as much as she knew how to settle him down once they'd been pushed (or try to). This was a blatant press of two very prominent red buttons of his — Rosa challenging him, and Rosa challenging him to tell her not to do something.

"...I don't know. Ask me later."

But he didn't move. Eventually, there were hands brushed to the sides of his face; the scent of girly products; warmth; finally, lips pressed to his furrowed brow. He wanted to move more than anything in the world, but his hands stayed curled around the edges of the banquette, and he was helpless to imagine the feel of sheets over a warm body. Rosa exhaled softly into the fringe of his hair, and the resulting breeze tickled at his bangs.

"I... Hugh..." she murmured. The hands against his temples trembled, and for a bewildered moment, Hugh wondered why. "Sorry." Her lips trailed down, just a breath away from touching his skin, past his eyelids and the planes of his cheek where a healthy flush had risen — and then they did touch, hesitantly at first, on his own.

Something within him undid itself. Rosa felt the crush of his arms bring her closer, sliding around her back to press her tightly to his chest. There were hands in her hair, fingers on her neck. She made a muffled sound at his sudden display of passion, but after a moment, she closed her eyes and soaked in it.

It was so, so, _so_ much better than the matching stage scenes she'd done until now.

Eventually, she tried to pull back, wanting for breath, but Hugh couldn't bear the thought of breaking, and pulled the ribbon at the back of her neck apart with overzealous hands. She froze.

"...I felt that."

_Wait, shit, that might be too fast,_ Hugh thought, mortified, the strangest sensation fluttering inside his belly.

"Sorry," he muttered, "sorry, sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to... I mean, I wasn't trying t—"

"Don't pull that. Were you...?"

He panicked. "No, I'm sorry, it was an accident! Seriously! I was just happy to hear—"

Somehow, he never saw the motion. By the time he registered that he was on the bed, it was already too late. Hugh flinched when he was sure she was going to swat him violently with a stray pillow, or worse yet, turn away from him and leave the whole thread of thought to dangle for what would be as good as forever. But she did neither, instead grabbing both his wrists and flinging him like a discus onto the bed.

"Oh my god, you're _so dumb_," Rosa hissed. She whacked away some of the extra chips and cookies haphazardly with one hand, while making a depression in the covers to the side of his head with the other from the force she was pressing with. In the next motion of her hand, she started undoing the ties in her hair. "If you're happy, then show it, you total idiot!"

"I—" She'd already threaded one nimble hand into his belt, had hooked the index finger of her other hand into his obtrusive collar to pull it away, had somehow wormed beneath his chin to run an agonizingly slow tongue over his hammering pulse. A malicious little voice in the back of Hugh's mind whispered to him not to run away or let go, lest she change her mind, but... "Slow _down!_"

He pushed her back just enough to let him slip a hand between them. Rosa eased back, studying him neutrally, and Hugh quietly cursed her convincing acting skills. Even they, however, didn't fool him as well as she thought they must have; part of him realized she was puzzling over the situation just as much as he was.

"Wh... What?" he said intelligently.

"Well, I was just..." Rosa sported an embarrassed expression. "Don't even tell me you've never read those kinds of stories before."

"What stories?" But, Hugh realized, the blush creeping up his neck must have given him away.

"You saw that one movie I was in," she informed him, factually and accurately, even though she had definitely not been there to witness it. She just knew. "You know the one." Hugh covered his face with his hands and groaned, the strength of it vibrating low in his chest.

"...Yeah, whatever." Now, with these memories to fuel the fantasy, he knew he'd be thinking about it while lying in bed for the next week or six.

"J-Just stop thinking about it," she commanded. "You know as well as I do stuff like this totally happens in real life, too! Where the love confession leads to... you know... this."

"That is completely ass-backwards! This whole thing is!"

Rosa twitched, leaning backwards a tiny bit, then lay her hands on either side of Hugh, directly on top of him and using her arms to support her weight. "Sooooo... Are you complaining about the sex being ass-backwards, or the order being ass-backwards? Just curious."

For his own safety, Hugh shut right up after that. But in mere seconds, he found himself taking in a long breath after that as her hands came around, crossed under his chin, and settled fingertip by fingertip against his throat. She stretched upwards, a shiver sweeping through them both as she brushed the precarious lump in his pants with hers, and allowed her palms to lay flat against the furious pulse beat at the sides of his neck. Rosa could practically see it pounding, surreally thick as if it coursed something heavier than blood.

When he reached a hand up to grab her upper arm, his grip was tight, but she never flinched. The heat was getting more intense, and his emotions along with it. Too much adrenaline was screwing with him, he supposed. Or maybe it was just Rosa.

(The pun sounded much better in his head. At least it had the decency to stay there.)

Rosa fingered at the zipper pull dangling at the high neck of his coat for a few moments, taunting him as he watched her move her fingers at his eye level, then pulled down slowly and deliberately enough that Hugh could hear each individual tooth within being tugged apart.

"I always thought your jacket made you look really hot— really sexy, I mean." She blushed darkly.

"I aim to— _please_...!"

The last word cracked when Rosa traced a finger along the zipper of his crotch. "But then you decide it's a good idea to walk around in these stupid-looking pants all day."

Hugh wet his lips, his breathing shallow. "What, would you prefer I... didn't wear them?"

"Right now? Kinda, yeah."

Rosa still had him pinned, bending him backwards over the edge of the bed. No longer liking this arrangement, Hugh ignored his leverage disadvantage and flipped things with the element of surprise instead. Once she fell back to the comforter with a squeal, he stretched himself over her like a possessive cat.

"Don't insult my fashion sense. I'll get angry."

"Will you?" she asked with a sharp touch of panic, when Hugh set a hand on the crown of her hair. Just when it seemed like he was about to ruffle, Hugh instead stroked her hair, hand creeping towards the back of her neck and tracing the curve along her back. She shuddered, making a small noise that was close to a plea. He discarded his blazer to the floor lazily, and his hands slid down, centimeter by painful centimeter, until they lay on either of her breasts. Hugh caught himself staring down long and hard at her with a mixture of awe, respect, and the first pangs of desire he'd felt for anyone.

Rosa ducked below him a little, opening and pulling his pants with careful, warm hands. Cool air slipped between them when she parted. "Rosa—" Hugh could not finish the sentence — could not finish the thought — as he felt her blow a gentle stream of cool air across the tip of his shaft.

_When did she manage to get that far?_ he wondered dimly. In the time he spent pleasantly reeling from the sensation, she had already completely slipped out from under him and rolled them back over again. Hugh heard her say something indistinct about it being more fun this way, when she engulfed him in wet heat. He didn't think anymore after that.

"...Ah," she uttered lamely, "that's... not the same..."

After a brief period of nothing but controlled breathing, Hugh found enough spare oxygen to make something that sounded vaguely like a "huh?"

"It's kinda bitter," Rosa said. "The books never said it was so bitter..."

_You are such an adorable little moron,_ his mind screamed at her.

"But I've kinda always wanted to try it, and it's not something I'll ever get to do in a movie... sooooo..."

If thought had been easy then, there was a very simple and obvious retort Hugh could have made to that. Seeing as how all his energy for forming logical lines of thought was being pooled into physical sensation right now, though, it would have to wait. His hands turned her hair into a knotted mess while he lolled his head back, breathing rasping harshly in an incredibly erotic rhythm. It was the sexiest thing Rosa had ever done; it was also the sexiest thing Hugh had ever experienced.

It was almost too intense for one body to bear, and as the pleasure built towards a blinding crest with every flicker of her tongue, he realized the humiliation and concern was only getting worse. It was too much to take. So, with a surge of effort, Hugh pushed Rosa back, and she went willingly, sitting on his thighs without a word to give him time to collect himself.

(If their parents would have gotten angry at the idea they were sharing a room, they would surely have a coronary at the thought of them doing things like _this_ in that shared room.)

"You're an idiot," he wheezed. "You haven't done this before. What if you regret it later? Think about it! Do you really want your first time to be with—"

"Yes," she said in a fervent whisper. "I do."

"Well, what if we don't even end up together, or something?! I told you we were doing this backwards! What would you even think if—"

Rosa dragged a finger down the seam of his shaft towards his balls to distract him. He moaned.

"Even so," she reasoned, "you'll still be my friend for life, if nothing else. And I mean, I love you _now_, so I'll make it memorable in the best way so it won't matter later, no matter what happens!" A fidget. "Besides I'd still rather, ah... trade poke balls with you than some random person. Ifyaknowwhatimean."

Hugh closed his mouth slowly, being as pacified as he was going to get, and finally resigned himself to going quietly. She padded her fingers into the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, like a cat who wanted to play, and resumed working on him. Rosa was slow but dogged, inexperienced but relentless and ruthless at her task, all the while frustratingly steady as a metronome. It had been — a while since he'd bothered to find some private time for himself, which made his need for release all the more intense once it had built.

Rosa's hands had found their way up past his pelvis to his sides, running up to his ribcage and back again beneath his shirt when it happened. "Ro, sa... I'm—!" He made a frantic grunt, causing her to remove her mouth just in time and finish the job with her hands. She squeezed and pumped him a few times, and then Hugh bucked forward again, spilling over his stomach and onto the covers.

By the time he heard her grabbing for a tissue from the nightstand, Hugh had recovered enough to think, _This is completely crazy._

"Next time we battle each other," he said breathily, "I swear, Rosa. Just you wait."

If that promise was meant to attack her enthusiasm, it was unsuccessful. Rosa hummed, satisfied with herself. "You're welcome!"

He sat up slowly as she relinquished his hips, having mopped up most of the mess. The comforter now had a telling dark patch on it, but at least neither of them would have to wash it to hide the evidence. She tossed the tissue to the side with his jacket and crawled up near the pillows, but didn't make it the whole way there before Hugh had reared up and grabbed her shoulder from behind. She rose to her knees as he nuzzled the back of her neck, sliding his lips to the side.

"No marks!" she reminded him; fortunate, because he'd been about to convince himself a small hickey wouldn't hurt, maybe low or toward the back where it would be difficult to see.

"I'll find something else," he whispered hotly into her ear. "You said you've read those stories, right?"

"So have you," she pointed out, with no small amount of amusement in her voice. Hugh made a less-than-pleased sound. Her lips quirked up at his almost-admission, but the feel of his body against hers, firm and warm, distracted her from it.

He seemed interested to learn that her tights were easy to maneuver under if one accessed them from her shirt instead of her shorts, and that his hands could fit quite neatly between her thighs and press against her without coming up against the layers of her clothing by doing so, and also that touching her like that made Rosa take a strangled breath. And he shifted, experimentally, rubbing his hand between her hips. Rosa's head tipped back, a soft moan in her throat, a breath of his name that he all determinedly ignored. He felt strangely hot with her obvious enjoyment, feeling his flesh awaken again as he stiffened against her backside, and she felt a tension of her own building in her stomach.

Hugh exhaled softly, leaned in close and pressed his face into her neck, worked his hands under the cradle of her hips again. She flattened herself back into him as best she could, grinding the beginnings of another erection warmly against their bodies, and he made a noise in his throat, another entry on the quickly-expanding list of the most erotic sounds she'd ever heard in her life. The coil of heat in her stomach had melted, leaving her feeling wet, and her breathing unsteady. Hugh, too, felt a sort of fascinating sympathetic tension, as if every pulse of arousal that seemed to go through her was echoed within him.

He started wriggling her entire bottom half of clothing down at once, in one tight bundle. Once it was looped around her knees, trapping her there, he turned her around and pinioned her down to the bed, on her like a wolf with its jaws to her throat. Rosa sighed again, a hotter, more vibrant sound. When fingers nudged between her thighs, tied at the knees as they were, and found her folds, she didn't breathe for a precarious instant.

"Don't!" she said, and Hugh immediately made to withdraw his fingers. Rosa glowered at him. "No, I mean, you'll rip my tights! I only brought the one pair this time!"

_Maybe I should, then, _he wanted to say to her petty request, but didn't. Instead, he studied the curve of her thighs thoughtfully, and decided on, "It's not that hard to figure out, Rosie."

As he guided her knees up towards her chest, she contended irritably, "Stop _calling_ me tha—"

Hugh rubbed his fingers up and down, spreading the thick moisture around, and her voice elevated into a groan, which evolved into a cry after that when he found her clit, completely by accident. Rosa's hands flew to his back, and he had to fight to keep her hips fixed to the bed.

The books in the Aspertia library Hugh had glanced discreetly at, but never dared to bring home with his pure and innocent sister around, had never bothered to mention that touching someone _else_ was as pleasing as _being_ touched. Maybe this was why Rosa had put up with the taste before, if pleasuring someone else was so gratifying.

"I-It's not a button so be carefuuu_uuuuuuhhhh_," she tried to say all in one breath, but was overwhelmed.

Good to add to his horribly basic knowledge of the female anatomy, at least. He flicked his touch over it to test, long enough for only a heartbeat, only to see her bite her lip. Breathing quick and reedy, she shifted underneath him, feeling the indignity and constraint of the position more keenly now. Hugh's heart was loud in his ears, drowned out only by Rosa's pleased gasp. She dragged her fingernails in raw trails down his back, along the fabric of his shirt, amazed at how warm he was... With that loose fragment of a thought, she wrenched at his shirt, needy, and he complied by pulling it over his head. Her hands met his back, and she marveled at how feverishly hot his skin was, how his muscles trembled and tensed like the string of a wooden bow even while _she_ was the one being pleasured here. But try as she might, Hugh's strong hands did not allow her to buck.

Then, cautiously, he pulled himself up, and Rosa felt her gaze flicker down as she tried to even out her breathing. She caught her breath at the sight of him, the first time actually _seeing_ him; they'd seen each other shirtless more than once (and in Rosa's case, Hugh suspected, both accidentally and accidentally-on-purpose), but she looked like it never occurred to her he was a _man_, with a body that was capable of these kinds of things.

She snapped to attention, and locked eyes with Hugh. "You're..."

"Huh?"

"You're, um... really hot. I mean, aesthetically. And temperature, too, I guess."

Neither of them were really fully undressed — Hugh shirtless and with his pants wrenched aside, and Rosa with her tights messily circling her legs — but it still felt wonderfully scandalous during the one moment of grace Hugh took to stretch out fully over her, where everything was silent except for their breathing and their heartbeats.

Rosa abruptly struggled for room to sit up without warning. "Switch," she demanded, "I wanna be on top."

"Wha— Why?!" Hugh gawked at her like she'd grown a second head.

"_Because,_" she said emphatically, even though her partner had already rolled to the side and fallen back freely at her request. Stuffing her tights further down her legs so they no longer hindered her movement, she held his waist gently below her. His heartbeat quickened, and a shiver of hunger surged through him, but still, he prompted her one more time.

"Last chance to change your mind."

Hugh didn't actually want her to change her mind, though. He wanted this more than he wanted to breathe. Truthfully, he had almost stopped believing it could ever happen to him in the first place. All the adolescent-boy fantasies of a thousand women descending upon him, blind to all but his desires didn't really compare, especially when none of them ever came true anyway.

She huffed, not quite offended. "Who's the one on top, here?"

Hugh made a very soft sound in the back of his throat. She smiled devilishly, wanting to coax that sound out of him in full voice, too. Rosa sank down onto him in a startling display of fearlessness, fingers curled tightly around his shoulders, and her slick grip pulled a moan out of both of them.

"Wasn't that... supposed to hurt?" Hugh asked fuzzily.

Carefully, Rosa leaned forward so she was breathing against his face. "...Oh. I'm pretty active."

"You're wha...?"

"I kinda already took myself a long time ago," she confessed. "Uh, sorry..."

He gave her a look that asked her _what are you apologizing to me for?_, until she wriggled against him impatiently. The movement caused her to clench around him, and Hugh swore she must have heard the palpitation of his heart in that moment, because she proceeded to, to do— _something_ with her pelvic floor that made him strain with warm pleasure against her.

She leaned in to kiss him, sealing their mouths to prevent them from moaning too loudly. The suites here probably had soundproof walls, because no good hotel worth its money didn't, but it was better safe than reported for disturbing other patrons. They rolled together, Rosa rocking sharply against him and Hugh surging up to meet her. His grip on her hips guided their rhythm, just tight enough to bruise; but in return, he felt the sting of her nails pricking at his waist, making to leave matching battle scars. The pain only sharpened his arousal, his focus on her and the roar of magma building in his veins. She responded to his direction by pulling his hair assertively, urging him to move faster.

This position really was better than missionary, he thought (as well as he could think at the moment). With every movement, he could keenly feel her muscles stroking him sweetly, and Hugh felt like he must have been losing his mind as he picked up the pace, pistoning in and in and _in._

"Ohhhhh," Rosa moaned, hitching her hips back, "That's so...!" Adjectives were difficult, so she let the sentiment hang. The hazy words made Hugh feel like his vision was going white, and he groaned tightly, his pace turning even more demanding.

The movements were mutually hectic until the evening's worth of tension spilled out of him in a dizzying torrent. Rosa finished with some violent, staccato breaths as her body stiffened, and she leaned onto him desperately for support while she rode her orgasm; Hugh responded with primal elation, senseless emotions filling him as he shoved in one last time, a shuddering groan rattling in the air between them.

They were both still, then. Hugh slackened, leaning his forehead lightly against Rosa's, and then kissed her with all the apology he could muster.

"What''s that about?" she asked softly when he was done with her mouth, brushing sweat-soaked strands of dark hair from his face. "Still think I need to change my mind?"

"Sorry, Rosa, I wasn't— I wasn't thinking. I mean, I didn't have a condom!" Those weren't the right words, not the words Hugh wanted, but they got the point across; that, or his alarmed expression did. They were both taught very young that you shouldn't have sex without a condom, because you'll get pregnant and die — or, well, the girl will, but she won't literally _die_. He hoped. (He really, really hoped.)

Rosa stared at him for a moment, and then snorted inelegantly. "Hugh, relax. I'm on birth control already." His expression must have been suspicious, because she tacked on, "For... other things, not related to this. That sounds bad, but it's true. Besides, you know pokemon centers carry that kind of stuff, right? Most journeying trainers are young adults and all." She yawned, smiling against his skin innocently. "We're adults, too..."

Hugh had never bothered to think about it that way before. Maybe they really were adults, if they could do adult things like this and not regret it.

* * *

He must have nodded off, because Hugh was quite abruptly awakened when Rosa tried to roll over and nearly pushed both of them off the bed. She woke up as well, shuffling around with her hands to find the numerous pillows and blinking groggily.

"G'morning," Rosa said indistinctly, propping herself up heavily on a pillow with one hand and his leg with the other.

"Unnnngh, too early," muttered Hugh, disengaging his feet and using them to hold the floor steady. He staggered out of bed, and by the time he was done taking his turn in a bathroom he suspected was intentionally far too big for one person at a time, one side of the blankets were bundled up around a lump that looked suspiciously like Rosa, sans the shoes, socks, shorts and shirt that were puddled on the floor by her nightstand.

Hugh looked at the pile of discarded clothing, pondered, shook his head with supreme apathy and sat down on the other side of the bed. Whatever he suspected was romping merrily through his companion's (lover's?!) mind, one thing he could be certain of was that Rosa, being the polar opposite of a morning person, would be too half-asleep to accomplish any of it, no matter what it was, for a good many hours yet.

_Like I'll be doing any better_, he thought blearily. Hugh fumbled with the covers and finally succeeded in pulling them over his head, burrowing between the top sheet and the feather bed until all that could be seen from the outside was a short tuft of dark hair on the white pillow.

He was obscurely aware, as if from a long distance away, of rolling over and wrapping his arms around sweet-smelling skin, and then all was peace and darkness until later that day, when terrible, sadistic knives of bright sunlight came lancing across the room to stab him directly in the eyes.

"Ow," he moaned faintly from far, far under the pillow where he was giving a convincing try at smothering himself. "Turn off the lights."

"I can't," whimpered Rosa. "We forgot to close the curtains last night..."

"We? You. It's your hotel room."

"You could walk upright better after _that,_" came the muffled reply. Hugh gradually became aware that what felt like a frightened animal trying to bury itself in his chest was, in fact, Rosa hiding from the noontime sun. Efforts to dislodge her and make her go close the drapes were thwarted by the fact that she had her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, and that she also had her legs expertly tangled, and that she _also _was producing the most pathetically pained noises he was sure he'd ever heard her make. She wasn't even this bad when they'd both had the chicken pox as kids.

"Fine, fine. I'll go close the curtains." But Rosa still wouldn't let go, and Hugh had to settle for dragging the comforter over their heads again. It was stuffy, but at least it wasn't bright.

They lay there for a good ten minutes, thankful for the lack of light.

"Rosa, what are you doing?"

"Ah— Sorry." She began quickly to unravel the knot she'd tied both of them into.

"No, I mean with your foot. That twitchy thing."

"That kinda happens when I'm nervous."

"Huh?"

"Like when I'm in a bed, wearing next to nothing, with you, on the morning after, and you're being very quiet," she clarified. "You know. Nervous."

"...Huh."

"You... do... remember last night... right?"

"Uh, yes. Very well."

"Oh, good. I don't think I can do it justice with a quick reprise."

"I don't think you could either. I was too busy wondering if you were still going to ask me."

"Ask you what?"

"If you convinced me."

There was no sound from Rosa's side of the bed for several minutes. "I'm kinda afraid to," she said at last. "I think maybe I'd rather not know for sure, now."

"Hey, you lost that option when you started this whole thing," Hugh informed her, grabbing blindly for her arm and hauling her back over to the middle of the mattress. "You're getting an answer, and you're going to live with it."

Rosa tensed, holding her breath, and waited. He would have bet anything she had her eyes tightly shut, in the darkness. Quickly, before he could lose his nerve completely, Hugh dragged her closer and kissed her. It was more chaste than the previous morning, but it must have sufficed, because when he broke away, she could breathe again. "Hugh..."

"Don't make me rethink this," he growled.

Rosa gave a quick, quiet laugh. "I'll try."

Hugh inhaled deep and let it out slowly, trying to make his shoulders relax. "I was thinking about what you said, about it being too late for me to be normal, I guess. But I still want to be a little normal, if I can, and — it's not normal for people to be alone their whole lives, you know? Not all the time. I guess—"

"Shush," said Rosa, laying a finger across his lips. Hugh stopped, startled by the sudden, small intimacy. He swallowed hard. "Explain yourself later. We should get up." She eased the cover back, shielding her eyes with her hand until they were sufficiently adjusted enough not to cause her brain to burn inside her skull simply by opening her eyes. Once she'd re-entered the world of the diurnal, she glanced at the clock.

"...Or not. Crap."

"What?" he asked, and then felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach. "Oh, jeez, are you kidding me?"

"Nope. We slept way past tournament registration, and it's gotta be halfway done by now anyway. I'm never gonna hear the end of it from Clay..." Rosa whined.

Bed hair popped up above the comforter, and Hugh along with it. "So... wanna go back to sleep?"

Hugh had about two seconds to feel Rosa smirk against the back of his neck as he tried to roll over before he was shoved under her, in what was suspiciously close to the start of an encore performance of the previous night.

"Oh no, I'm _wide_ awake now. Here, I'll help you wake up if you need it, Sweetie!"


End file.
